


Shimmer

by leinthalexandra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, genderfluidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leinthalexandra/pseuds/leinthalexandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s got his hand stuck in the proverbial cookie jar. Only instead of cookies it’s soft blue powder sticking to a foamy brush...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shimmer

**Author's Note:**

> for a prompt over on my tumblr: "AU where Mary never died and she catches Dean trying on her make-up" requested by tyrannosaurusprick.

“Dean, sweetie? What are you—”

His head jerks violently towards the door, heart racing like a jackrabbit trying to escape but finding nowhere to run. His mother stands in the doorway of her bedroom, back early from work, and Dean’s got his hand stuck in the proverbial cookie jar. Only instead of cookies it’s soft blue powder sticking to a foamy brush, though he’s already applied some of it to his eyelids.

Mary sets her purse on her bed, taking off her jacket and laying it on top. She walks over to Dean and kneels down next to him. He’s thirteen but still small enough that she can do that without too much trouble.

“Close your eyes, baby.”

Dean’s eyelids are trembling as he does so, but he tells himself he’s not gonna cry. It’s stupid to cry about something like this. He’s a teenager now, he should have known better, known that this is something only stupid five year olds do because they don’t realize that boys aren’t supposed to do this. But it didn’t stop his curiosity; he still wanted to know what it was like and how to do make-up like his mom did, wondered if the same colors that looked good on her would look good on him.

The soft feeling of a tissue under his eyes makes him bite down on the insides of his lips, pressing them tight together until his mouth is a thin white line. What startles him is the feeling of the brush against his eyelid again.

“Keep your eyes closed, Dean,” his mom says, and Dean does so, even though he’s afraid he’ll break and open them anyway. He manages to hold still the entire time, and when his mom kisses his temple and tells him he can open his eyes, he turns to look in the mirror.

One of his eyes is normal-looking like always, but the other—his mom has done the little thing she always does to her eyes, blending the blue and the green and the dusky pink colors together so that it doesn’t look garish or peacock-like, but where you wouldn’t really notice at first glance. The second glance is always what catches the eye, though, and Dean gets a slight thrill to see it’s the same for him.

“Now here,” she says, as she hands him the eyeshadow brush, “you try the other one.”


End file.
